Her Innocence His Addiction

It was Valentine's Day. I was all alone on my desk, pretending to be deeply engrossed in the book I was reading. 

But in reality, I was eavesdropping on the girls behind me. The "HAS" girls, (Hot And Sexy). A blonde, a brunette, and a black, straight-haired. The typical mean girls gang. 

I always convinced myself that I hated them. But right now, I envy them. They wouldn't stop gushing about the expensive gifts they got from their boyfriends and I was boiling with jealousy and self-pity. 

I was 19. I was a freshman in college. No guy's ever gotten me anything. And the few that tried, I always rejected bluntly. Because I was a girl raised with the "don't accept things from men" theory. Mum said accepting the gifts meant trading your dignity in return. So taking the gifts was impossible. Sometimes, I felt insulted by those gifts and lashed out at the guys.

But deep down, I always wanted to know what it felt like to accept gifts and not feel insulted or guilty. 

Crazy, right? Yeah. I was a breathing contradiction. Because why was I craving something that I hated? It made no sense. 

"Oh, there you are." The cheeky voice of my best friend brought me out of my funk. She was heading in my direction, dressed like some Latina badass. Smokey-eyed makeup and those cowboy knee-length boots. Skirts so short you'd see her black panties if she bent a bit. Cleavage, bold and fucking tempting. 

She was a striking, loud beauty. Curly blonde hair that screamed wealth. I was a quiet beauty, brunette, silently curvy, more natural without the extensions, nails, lashes, and dresses at normal lengths. I was just...Me. 

We had such different auras and it made no logical sense that we were best friends. She'd fit better hanging out with the HAS girls. Except she despises them a lot. 

I breathed out in relief when she sat next to me. Finally, I could stop pretending to be reading. 

"Guess who got asked out on a date?" she beamed, dropping the package she was holding on the desk.

Jealousy ran through my throat like hot saliva and I gulped it loudly. I shouldn't feel this way. She was my best friend. I should be happy for her.

"What...is that?" I asked, staring at the red package in the bag.

"Fucking Louboutins." She squealed in my ears. "Michael bought them."

"And you accepted?" My tone was judgmental. Why not? He was her Father's butler. They had a good seven-year gap. Creepy!

Also...her Father would kill him when he finds out. Why would she take such an unhealthy risk?

"Why not? He's fucking hot and you know I've wanted nothing but to choke on his dick ever since I set my eyes on him, girlfriend!" She squealed silently. 

"But your Father's never gonna approve of your relationship with him..."

"And who's gonna tell him?" She rolled her eyes and ended it with a laugh. "Besides, don't you love a good forbidden romance plot?"

Yeah. But only in books. Not in reality, I'd never. 

"I'm so ready for him tonight," she cupped her perfectly sized boobs. "I can't wait to have him buried deep inside me-"

Oh, boy. I can't listen to any more of this. 

"Good luck fucking your Father's butler." I stood, taking my bag. 

"Where you going?"  She pouted.

"To study, something you know nothing about," I smirked. She flipped me the bird. I laughed out loud and left the class. 

Down the hallways, everyone was giddy about their dates. I was the odd one. The girl with no dates. How I hate my very strict and boring life.

I got to the library and returned the book I was reading. I was gonna leave but stopped and grabbed a dark romance book. 

A girl like me had no business reading a dark romance book. But I did, a lot. It was my guilty pleasure.

This particular one would keep me occupied for the night. 

The day ended and I drove my best friend's car home because she'd taken a cab to go meet up with Michael. 

When I said home, I meant her house. I lived with her, not permanently. Just until Mum and Dad finalize their messy divorce process. 

I stepped out of the car and headed inside. There was no one downstairs. I headed for the staircase. 

"Is that you, sweetie?" A thick, deep, familiar voice made me halt.